What Happens on a Mission Stays on the Mission
by TheMadKatter13
Summary: [Commission 04] If anyone had ever told Sakura that she'd have sex in a brothel, she would have thumped them good. But in the face of an unexpected and strong aphrodisiac… Well, it's a good thing there's a familiar face around to help, even if it's not one she would have ever expected. CU.


**Commission request for anon that took an embarrassingly long time to complete due to irl issues. orz It's been a while since I last wrote M/F and I definitely feel like I've improved since then. :3 It's also been a while since I've written Sakura, and even longer since I've written Itachi, and neither of those fics were quite so long. lol Betaed by my best friend (Monti_B_Lewis on AO3) who knows even more about this fandom than I do and helped keep me, and the plot, in line. Anyway, y'all enjoy~**

 **Cross-posted from AO3 same-day.**

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For all that she was dead center in Wind Country, Sakura hadn't felt so much as a _breeze_ the entire six weeks she'd been stuck on this hell of a mission. At least her current company had been… rather nice, even if she was going to have to leave soon. Too soon. A hand landed gently on her shoulder and she turned into it, smiling shyly at her shamisen teacher. She hated playing demure, but when one was on a mission, there really was nothing else for it. Two weeks after she got to Wind Country, she stopped being 'Haruno Sakura' and took over 'Obana Mako'.

"Are you all packed?" Keitarou asked, his tone and smile soft and small, as always. But despite his demeanor, and he really was quite kind, she still had no delusions to the likely fact that he had a rotation of women coming through his home, learning the shamisen and… the 'ways of love'.

Sakura ducked her head as she turned. "Yes, Keitarou-sensei. It's going to be strange, leaving this place." And it actually was. She'd spent the last four weeks, living out of her shamisen teacher's spare bedroom and spending her days learning an instrument she wasn't even sure she was going to keep playing after all this was done. At least now, she could play the songs she needed so well that she could probably fall asleep on stage and keep playing without a hitch.

"If you ever need to learn more songs, you're welcome to return to me at any time," he said. He started to lean in closer and she turned her head to avoid the kiss that landed on her cheek. He laughed softly at her 'shy' avoidance and took her bag to walk her to the door. "It was lovely to meet you, Miss Mako. I hope to see you again."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Sakura dropped the timid posture. It was a great relief, being able to raise her head and straighten her posture, but she wouldn't be able to keep it for long. She traded one henge for another as she moved downtown in the search for the real Obana Mako.

The original mission brief had described her target, Honda Jin, as a frequent visitor to The Orchid Garden, where the client preferred the assassination to take place. When Sakura first arrived to Wind Country, she had surveilled the brothel for two weeks, and found the sweet but apparently dense shamisen player, Mako, the perfect cover. Mako had been working at the brothel for over a year and despite the fact that she was fairly poor, she had yet to accept the frequent offers to raise her pay in exchange for swapping out her shamisen for a bed. Which made her ideal.

Sakura found Mako at her home, just as she'd anticipated from her previous observations. She swapped out her henge for one disguising her as the assistant madam for the brothel Mako worked at. When Mako opened to the door to see 'Fuu' standing there, her naive personality presented itself in the form of surprised delight at seeing her boss at her door. She didn't so much as blink an eye when Sakura offered her a week off work and the pay up front to cover it. It was that simplicity to the girl's personality that had helped Sakura select her as her disguise during the mission, but seeing it up close and personal just made Sakura hope that Mako found someone nice soon, someone who would take care of her and watch over her.

Within Sakura's first hour on The Orchid Garden's stage, disguised as Mako and fingers and bachi moving over the strings without a thought, she realized that the heat she'd felt at Keitarou's was _nothing_ compared to being stuck in a large, enclosed space filled with lustful, sweaty men drunk on sake and high on opium. The doors and windows were, for the most part, kept closed, keeping all that summer heat and smoke inside, and there wasn't a fan in sight unless it was being held by one of the the customer or the staff. The air outside got stuck inside, mixing with the smoke and the heat and sweat from tens of bodies packed in close and tight, turning the brothel's main room into a heavy, humid, _cloying_ environment that Sakura was sure was worse than the air outside. There wasn't a single mechanical fan in the building, and it looked to Sakura like she was the only person who wasn't holding a hand fan. The odd red lighting and the thick, _unbreathing_ kimono she'd borrowed from Mako only made it all worse, only left Sakura struggling to breathe and sweating a grossly excessive amount. Sakura _hated_ sweating, especially when she wasn't working out.

Somewhere around the middle of her shift, she finally began to realize what exactly the people in the audience were doing. Honestly, she was almost surprised it took her that long - she was usually quite a bit more observant - but she also liked to think that she was just subconsciously blocking it out until she couldn't any longer. Because almost every woman present had her breasts hanging out from her loosely-tied yukata, and almost every woman had a patron's hand up the bottom of her yukata and between her legs. Now, Sakura was not a prude, she'd had toys in her bedside drawer for years, and she wasn't a virgin, not any longer, but this type of blatant promiscuity was something she was not comfortable with. Not one single bit. At least the women took the patrons upstairs before anything progressed any further. Sakura was so, _so_ very thankful for that.

Sakura supposed that the main reason it took her so long to notice her audience was the smoke. Patrons and girls alike lined the walls of the room, lounging as they smoked opium pipes and hookahs, breathing out thick clouds of smoke. It left both the air as well as Sakura's mind hazy until she set a fraction of her focus to filtering out the drugs effects with her chakra. Still, Mako only ever performed with her chin to her chest and so Sakura had too to. It left her slightly exhausted by the end of the day, having to use up so much chakra between her henge and her filtering when combined with having to double-check every thought, movement, and micro-expression against Mako's. Which meant that keeping an eye out for her target was twice as hard as it was supposed to be, looking across the room and to the door and the staircase from under her eyelashes, second-guessing every face she saw.

But really, it wasn't all that - it wasn't the heat or the blatant public displays of lust or even the drugs - that really got to her. It was the fact that _no one was even listening to her play_. Okay, yes, Sakura understood that no one was here to for the music. She was just there to… perpetuate that mood the decor and the lighting start. That didn't make it any easier to bear. She spent _four weeks_ learning how to play the damned thing, learning the only _three_ songs that ever played at the establishment, and not a single. person. was watching. her. She _got_ it, it was just… annoying. And it made her feel like she just _wasted_ the last four weeks, even as she knew that it was impertinent to being undercover. Was it too much to ask to be appreciated for a skill that took time to learn?

By the end of the first day, Sakura's target hadn't shown up which was, unfortunately, not out of the ordinary based off his observed patterns, and she was overheated, skeeved out, exhausted, barely hanging onto her henge, and overall, just plain pissed off. If she hated the mission before, she positively _loathed_ it now. That night, she wouldn't have woken up even if Naruto had broken in drunk to challenge her to a fight or something equally ridiculous. At least she didn't have to deal with her overexcited puppy of a teammate on this mission. That would have just been too much.

Day two was much the same as day one. In fact, it was exactly identical. Except for The Man.

Sakura had noticed him the day before, just as she had noticed everyone else in the room, but she hadn't really taken note the way that she really should have. He had just been a dark silhouette in the far corner of the room, hidden by shadows and smoke, even though he never took a hit off a pipe or hookah during any time Sakura had her eyes on him, nor did anyone ever visit him in his corner: fellow patron or staff. For that first, split second that she saw him, she almost thought that he might be her target with the way he was positioned to watch all the rooms' occupants, but the stranger was disguised with a henge, just like Sakura was, and Honda Jin was a civilian without a shadow of a doubt. She didn't need to keep an eye on the shinobi any more than she needed to keep an eye on any other ninja, and yet…

No matter how much she tried to keep her mind on the mission, Sakura couldn't stop her eyes from drifting right back to that corner, again and again. There was just… _something_ about him that she couldn't put her finger on. Something familiar. It ate away at her attention the entirety of day two, and she went to sleep even more annoyed than the night before, frustrated by her inability to place the oddity about the stranger and irrationally frustrated about how long the wait was when she knew better.. It wasn't until she got back on the stage on the third day that it finally hit her: for some reason, the hidden ninja reminded her of _Sasuke_. It was impossible to say how exactly it reminded her of him, it just _did_. But she also knew that it wasn't him either.

"Hey! Hey you! Blondie!" Sakura's eyes and attention snapped from the void that kept pulling at her mind to the ruddy-faced man that was stumbling about on her stage on his way to her.

She was so caught up in trying to puzzle out the mystery man that the drunkard staggering towards her had caught her entirely by surprise. Thankfully, the muscle memory for the songs she'd been playing were now ingrained deep, so deep that Sakura was sure she'd be humming the tunes for months to come, and her fingers didn't waver in their tasks. The man, who was, annoyingly enough, _not_ her target, was holding a sake bottle in one hand, and the long neck should have prevented spillage, but his footsteps were so unsteady that he was sloshing sake all over her clean wooden platform. Temper spiking rapidly, Sakura vehemently hoped he would step in one of the puddles he was making and fall and break something. She kept her head down, still avoiding the ever-present opium smoke clouds, and hoping that he would leave her alone as long as she didn't lift her eyes from her shamisen.

"Blondie!" he called again and then slipped in one of the puddles, crashing to his knees to Sakura's vicious satisfaction. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to deter him one bit and he started crawling towards her on his hands and knees, mouth wide in a lewd grin that she could still see out of the corner of her eye. "How much for a little time with you? Your fingers are so damn good on that shamisen. How are they on... _other_ instruments?" He winked, and Sakura valiantly refrained from kicking him out of the brothel via her geta to his face.

"Beg pardon, honoured guest, but only performers are allowed on the stage," she quietly told her chest, falling back on on the same shy and bashful tone she'd used with Keitarou, even as her fingers remained confident and steady on their notes. It was a shame the man wasn't her target so she _could_ invite him upstairs and be rid of him, this perverted establishment, and this abhorrent weather, all in one and once and for all.

"Oh, I bet I can perform alright," the man laughed and it gave her the same sensation as touching something unknown and slimey. She fought to keep the curl of disgust from distorting the mild smile on her lips. He wavered towards her, sending hot puffs of his gross sake breath right over her face and she stopped breathing until it passed. "Bet I can make you perform too."

"Oh, but I'm not trained in such arts, honoured guests," Sakura replied, faux-bashfully. Subtly, she began to shuffle further away from the man at such a pace that he wouldn't notice until it was too late.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do absolutely fine," he assured in a tone that did not reassure her in the slightest. He reached out to touch her and she made a slightly larger shift to put her body out of his reach. When his outstretched hand failed to make contact with her arm, he swayed forward and then collapsed onto his face. It was hard to say if the crack Sakura heard was really his nose breaking or just the power of her wishful thinking. His cup flew out of his hand, splashing him, and nearly splashing her, with its contents before bouncing away somewhere behind her.

"Oh dear, are you quiet all right, sir?" She really should get an acting award for this mission. Sometimes she hated her self-chosen career path, but she was just so damn good at it that she could never truly come to regret it. Even when she was stuck on a terrible mission like the one she was on now.

"Ugh, I suppose," he mumbled as he got back to his hands and knees, swaying in place and much too close. Regretfully, his nose was in the right place and lacked the tell-tale flood of blood from a break and she silently mourned the missed opportunity. She continued her slow shift further away, though considering his state, he wouldn't have noticed unless she just got up and walked off. Probably. "Though if you really want to make sure, I'm sure we could find a room and you could kiss it better," he tried again with a wink.

"Really, sir, I'm afraid I cannot. I have only been hired for the musical entertainment." Really, were all drunk, horny men this disgustingly persistent?

"Oh, I'm sure your screams will be music to my ears." He swayed closer and she shifted again, but he, unfortunately, managed to keep from face-planting a second time.

Sakura realized the room had gone a bit quiet, a bit still, and all attention had become focused on the stage. It made her heart beat just a little faster as the adrenaline started to work its way into her limbs at the thought of having to potentially fight her way out. "Sir-"

"How may I assist you, honoured guest?"

Sakura released a subtle sigh of relief at the sound of the assistant madam's voice. While some madams, and their assistants, could be just as terrible as their customers, Fuu was not one of them. She made sure her patrons were taken care of, true, but not at the expense of her staff. Sakura just wished that she had saved Sakura's expense by interfering sooner. It had taken her long enough that Sakura had started entertaining fantasies of blowing the mission by getting the creep away from her as violently as possible. How did the real Mako even handle it? She was far too sweet and too naive to work in a place like this, to be exposed to this kind of a person on a daily basis. But she'd also somehow managed to hold out this long without giving into the temptation of higher pay, had avoided attacks on her person both at the brothel and away from it; maybe she was stronger than Sakura was giving her credit for.

"Oh, I was just trying to get to know your lovely shamisen player better," the man slurred, finally turning away from Sakura. But that turn only went so far and he sort of… rolled over in order to face Fuu. And then plopped into a slouched sitting position that was still far too close to Sakura who was returning to visions of kicking the man so hard that he flew to the other side of town. Preferably in the face. With her geta.

"Our deepest apologies, honoured guest. Mako was hired as a simple shamisen player and has had none of the training our other girls have had. However, I'm sure that, for the right price she…" Fuu trailed off when Sakura finally lifted her head and glared straight at her, her expression promising murder if Fuu finished her sentence the way she had intended. It wasn't an expression suited to sweet Mako, but perhaps it might keep Fuu or her mistress from making any similar offers regarding the real Mako in the future. "I'm sure that, for the right price, any of our highly trained and highly praised girls would be happy to appease you to your desire. If sir would like to follow me, I'm certain we can find someone to his liking."

Fuu held her arm out to the man with a small bow. Though Sakura had lowered her head again, she could see out of the corner of her eye the way the man was looking back and forth between Fuu and Sakura. _'If you don't accept that offer, there will be hell to pay,'_ Sakura thought, remembering that she needed to tamp down on her emotions lest she give herself away, although if the other shinobi was any good, they would have already noticed her own suppressed chakra and pegged her as a kunoichi. Thankfully, albeit with excessive and slurred grumbling, the man got to his feet, which seemed to be a feat in and of itself in his state. At one point, he nearly lost his balance entirely and fell on Sakura, and she braced herself with murder on her mind before Fuu caught him and successfully escorted him off-stage.

Sakura bowed her head and focused on her breathing, trying to get that always troublesome inner rage of hers under control. She hoped the other shinobi wasn't strong enough to feel the strength of her anger through her henge; the mission was enough of a problem without adding another shinobi to it that may or may not try to interfere with her target. Just thinking about him made her eyes drift to that corner again, which was both filled with a sense of power and a sense of nothing at all, as if no one was there at all. He wasn't the target - of that, she was certain. Beyond that, he wasn't her concern and she needed to put him out of her mind.

It took a few minutes for her to get herself back under control - her temper was still a work of progress - and by the time she did, she found that the man who'd come up onto her stage now had a girl in his lap to whom he was devoting his full attention. Thank the gods. Although, it was a bit alarming that the girl bore a great resemblance to Mako and therefore to the henge Sakura wore. Then the man started mouthing at the girl's neck as he looked up on stage and Sakura barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes; men were no better than children or dogs, marking their territory and making sure everyone saw it. Despite his eyes on her, he seemed perfectly content where he was, but Sakura's attention splintered once more to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't so much as touch her stage again.

The room, which had seemed to gather tension during the confrontation on the stage, as quiet as it had been, seemed to settle again and conversation began to pick up again. Sakura quietly continued to play, settling back into herself and her role, allowing her anger to reduce to a simmer and sink back into her core where it wouldn't cause problems. Not long later, servers began to move through the room again, handing cups to both men and women alike. Surprisingly, one of the servers made her way slowly but surely towards Sakura and onto her stage, and held out a cup. Sakura looked at it as she eased the song into an early end.

"Compliments of the house, with Madam Fuu's apology," the server said with a bow as she handed the cup to Sakura.

Sakura watched her walk away and then looked across the room and found Fuu raising her cup with a smirk before draining it. Sakura nodded back but didn't immediately drink. A small sniff revealed the surprising lack of the scent of sake and brought to mind lemons and sugar instead: lemonade. There were little flakes of herbs floating on the surface, which Sakura had caught glimpses of in the cups that had been handed out to the other patrons. She kept a careful eye on the other drinkers as she discretely suffused her drink with a tiny bit of chakra to test for poison. Nothing adverse seemed to be happening to her audience, in fact, if anything, the men just got more amorous with the women, which was hardly unusual, and her chakra didn't detect any poisons. She took a small sip, parsing it in her mouth and over her tongue, just in case, and when she detected nothing off kilter, she swallowed the mouthful and then downed the cup. No sooner had she set the cup down and begun to play again when she finally spotted her target entering the establishment for the first time since she began her faux employment.

Now that Honda had arrived, she didn't take her eyes from him as the hours passed, waiting for the opportune moment. She allowed neither the mystery shinobi nor the pervert who'd propositioned 'Mako' to pull at her attention, the whole of her focus centered on the only person that could get her out of The Orchid Garden once and for all. He slowly moved through the room little bits at a time, conversing with other patrons and letting a girl entertain him before moving to another group for it all to repeat, but there wasn't a single girl that he tried to take to the rooms upstairs.

It wasn't a break in the pattern, nor was there a possibility of him leaving without choosing a girl, but it would be beyond annoying if tonight was one of those nights. The client had specifically requested the assassination take place _here_ and the body found _here_. If he didn't pick a girl tonight, if he left the brothel alone, that meant that she'd have to stay longer. She'd have to remain in an environment that made her skin crawl, subjected to the drug-laden air that made her head light.

Throughout the remainder of her watch, Sakura could hardly keep still. She had started to feel restless in a way that she could only attribute to her eagerness to capture the target finally in sight. It had been a problem when she was young and she thought she'd trained herself out of that, but the entire mission had left her antsy to return home to Konoha where there was actually wind in the summer and she didn't have to deal with this stifling heat. Despite the fall of night, she had started to get warmer and warmer until Sakura was boiling where she knelt and was half-prepared to just shuck off her kimono and run naked through the streets just to cool off.

Near the end of her shift, Honda got up again, but this time, he finally moved towards the stairs. He was alone, but to be fair, Sakura hadn't been thinking about the possibility of him sending a girl ahead of him, and so she hadn't kept an eye on the staircase itself. For some reason, as the heat grew thicker and more oppressive and her belly cramped oddly, her focus had grown harder and harder to wrangle. Her fingers wanted to tremble and skip their notes and her attention wanted to wander, not to the mystery man or even the man who had propositioned her, but just… drift away. She'd managed not mess up her music or her fixation on her target as she put an early close to her song, but only just so, and couldn't have been more grateful to see Honda move into position by ascending to the second floor from which the only exit was the same staircase. If he wanted to risk self-injury to escape, he could only do so if a staff member had already unlocked one of the private rooms _and_ if he overpowered whichever girl he'd gone up with in order to jump out a window. Sakura didn't really care, one way or another - she was just so glad that the mission was so close to being over and home was in sight.

Her replacement was lingering at the edge of the little stage and Sakura nodded to the other woman as she descended with her shamisen. The familiar sounds of the only songs the room had ever known started up behind her and slowly faded away as she made her way through the crowd to the stairs, careful to keep herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. It wasn't difficult with a minor illusion coupled with the way the patrons were focused only on their drinks, drugs, or girls. It wasn't until she began ascending the stairs that she realized the pain in her belly wasn't really cramping, nor was the sensation in her belly, but rather a slow, intense throbbing between her legs. She had to pause at the top of the staircase, feeling oddly winded by the frankly unchallenging climb, and alarmed at the way the sharp edges of the world had gone all funny, but distantly so in a way that she couldn't quite grasp and bring to focus at the forefront of her mind.

Arousal was not a new sensation for Sakura. In fact, it was a highly familiar sensation that she'd become acquainted with years ago and normally, it was a sensation she welcomed. Because normally, she'd incited it herself alone in her apartment with her fantasies and her toys; or, more rarely, allowed the embers to ignite while people-watching when she was out and about. But she had been so far from aroused ever since she'd stepped into the brothel that arousal almost seemed like a foreign concept, a foreign sensation. Her mind hadn't so much as conjured a cutesy fantasy, much less an erotic one, since she'd left her shamisen sensei's home, not even during the long hours she'd spent kneeling on the stage. She was indisputably aroused now, and not only could she not figure out why, but she was almost overcome with the strength of her need to appease it.

All she had on her mind was the mission and her drive to resolve it, and yet, the sensation refused to fade. She could see her prey at the end of the hall, back to her as he waited at the door to one of the rooms. There was a laxness to his posture brought on by his consumption of the sake and opium offered downstairs, and he had no guard to speak of, but when Sakura tried to raise her arm to the needles holding her hair in place, she found herself pressing the heel of her palm to the apex of her thighs. Her core was throbbing painfully, screaming at her to fill it, and it was the only thing in focus in the world gone fuzzy. It was a terrible feeling no matter where she was at, but the fact that she was feeling it here and now only made it all that much worse.

Sakura clutched the wall, and the hallway stretched out before her like an endless void. She'd never felt a distance so great before like the one between her and her target, and she knew in that moment that she'd never reach Honda. Even if she, by some miracle, managed to get that far, to get within assassination distance of her target, the kill would be messy at best, and there would be no way she would be able to hide and pose the body before anyone discovered what she was doing.

In the event she had decided to take a patron up on their offer, she'd been given a key to a private room, and that room was only two doors down from where she still stood wavering precariously at the top of the stairs. She started crawling along the wall to her destination, fingers clinging uselessly to the smooth wood and eyes fixed on Honda, wary of making any noise that may draw his attention to her. He was just a civilian, but she knew what men could do to women, and she was hardly in the position or state of mind to fight him off should he choose to take advantage of her. She doubted she'd be able to fight off a child as she was right now.

The click of the lock when she turned her key was as loud as a cannon to her ears, but Honda didn't look her way, so after a moment, she slipped out of the frightening vulnerability of the hall and into the relative safety of her room. She had barely slid her door closed before she collapsed on her futon, Mako's shamisen making worrying clunk-clattering sort of sound as it fell from her fingers to the floor. Before Sakura's sleeves had even settled from her fall, she was already reaching for the hem of her kimono and yanking it up high around her hips. Something ripped as she forced the fabric wide without so much as the patience to untie her obi, and in the back of her mind, she resolved to fix it before she returned the clothes to Mako. She _tore_ her underwear from her body and tossed it away, the already damp fabric hitting the wall with a frankly gross _thwap_. Sakura barely noticed though, too busy shoving two fingers into where she was already soaking wet.

It was almost relieving, to be filled where she ached for it, but it wasn't quite enough, and she mourned for the toys in her bedside drawer as she worked another finger into herself. In desperate jerks of her hand, she fucked herself on her own fingers and rubbed frantically at her clit with the fingers of her free hand, even as her body screamed that it wasn't nearly enough to satisfy the ache. She could feel the ache of her need and the pleasure from her ministrations in equal measure, and though the ache didn't rise above the pleasure, nor did the pleasure rise above the ache.

Sakura bit her lip against a sob and tried to force her body towards its release, something in her realizing that if only she could come, it would all be over: the heat, the trembling, the aching need. Only, the harder she tried to reach her release, the further away it fell. Both of her hands were cramping up, the pain making a slow course up her fingers to her palms and beyond to her wrists and forearms, but she wouldn't stop, couldn't stop. Frustration welled up in her and she squeezed her eyes closed against the tears she could feel coming, wishing that it was her orgasm that was coming instead.

"Well, if I knew you were so needy for it, I could have given you my cock instead."

She squeaked in surprise and her eyes shot open. Her _target_ was standing in her doorway, hand rubbing at a clear outline at his groin that she didn't want to think about. Her hands were frozen between her legs, and she was so shocked by the interruption that she couldn't even close her legs, even as a thought echoed in her mind: _'He's staring at me.'_

Honda's grin was lewd and wholly unwelcome, and then he took a step inside. The action startled her into movement and she scuttled backwards into the corner, her wet fingers smearing on the futon. Then a strange, sudden stillness came over the man, his expression freezing in a curious way before he collapsed in front of her, his head landing on the corner of the bed. Where he'd been standing only a moment ago was a pale-haired stranger who stepped into the room and bent over to remove a green ring from her target's hand. Her dead target. Her target's ring, proof of her kill. The stranger was _taking it_.

"That's mine," her mouth said, and she jumped at the words she hadn't planned on releasing and at the hoarse quality to her voice.

The blond stranger looked at her and then picked up the body, slinging it over his shoulder before disappearing in a shinobi's quick-step. Sakura stared helplessly at the vacant space and then collapsed backwards into the uncomfortable wooden corner at her back. All that work, all that time, her _virginity_... wasted! Another shinobi had taken her target, and though she'd never seen the hair or face of the man from the corner of the main room downstairs, she knew that that was who had stolen her kill. Funny that they would both choose a blond henge. Ugh, this was going to be a mark against her village's efficiency, and against her own. She'd never failed Konoha or a client before and the thought weighed heavily on her.

Between the space of one blink and the next, the shinobi was back sans body, and as he stared down at her, Sakura realized that her kimono was still rucked up around her hips and her fingers were still wet. She didn't remember the latter until, blushing furiously, she shoved the fabric back down to cover herself and dragged her wet fingers down the bare skin of her thigh. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she averted her eyes, which fell on her underwear sitting on the floor across the room, too far for her to reach and hide away. If the shinobi was going to kill her, he'd better do it now so her embarrassment could be over. Better yet, she could just kill him, take the ring back, find the body - it couldn't have gone far - and erase any and all evidence that she was ever caught in such an unladylike situation.

"You drank the lemonade," he said without warning, startling her from her highly technical assassination strategy planning.

Sakura blinked, trying to pull the scattered edges of her mind into one cohesive thought. "What?"

"The lemonade. It was laced with an aphrodisiac. You drank it." She was thankful that his soft voice wasn't condescending because she really didn't need that kind of negativity in her life right now.

She'd had a shitty past few weeks, and just when she'd thought all the time she'd spent in the brothel had been the height of terrible, fate saw fit to test her patience and general _done_ -ness with her job in the form of an aphrodisiac. An _aphrodisiac_. Who even used those any more? Was is just her, or- no. There had been herbs in the other cups delivered to patrons and staff, and patrons had gotten more amorous after consuming the lemonade, Sakura just hadn't noticed because… Damnit, because the aphrodisiac had been straining her attention on her target and her mission. Wind Country officially sucked.

She shifted in place, drawing her attention to the throbbing between her thighs that had yet to cease, reminding her that she hadn't come yet and she still needed to. So, _so_ very badly did she need to. Her gaze flickered to the other shinobi still lingering in the doorway, and for a split second, her eyes stuck on the slight bulge below his waist. He had drank the lemonade too. Even though Sakura had embarrassed Tsunade and her own mednin training by failing to identify that she'd been drugged, she hadn't fallen _that_ far yet.

"Did you?" she asked, curious what he would say. He wasn't holding himself pervertedly like her target had been, but he wasn't doing anything to hide the slight raise to the fabric over his groin either.

"Unfortunately. I was trained to look for poisons and more potent drugs, not aphrodisiacs." As bland as his voice was, the man sounded just a bit put out and Sakura found herself giggling. To both of their surprise, if his look was any indication.

"Same," she admitted with a small smile and a shrug of her shoulder.

The room fell into a long, awkward silence, disrupted only by the faint racket of the crowd in the main room on the first floor, and the rustle of fabric from Sakura's inability to remain still. She hated that she couldn't keep from shifting, that she couldn't stop from squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the painful need that was only growing sharper the longer she was left unfilled. It wasn't a feeling she was familiar with, at least, not to such a degree. Her lovely shamisen instructor had delighted in leaving her teetering on the edge for longer than she thought she could handle, but she had never been unfulfilled as Keitarou teased her, not in this way. The feeling wouldn't leave until the aphrodisiac had been flushed from her body, which meant either hours of writhing pain and cramping hands, or…

Sakura had always wanted to give her virginity to her husband on their wedding night, and she'd always thought of Sasuke as that future husband. Then he betrayed them, left them, and she resigned herself to a life of spinsterhood. Her mother had always said she'd been a dramatic child. But as the years passed, and Tsunade-sama making one hell of an impact, Sakura finally came to terms with the fact that she didn't have to wait for Sasuke. He certainly hadn't wanted to wait for her, or anyone else. The only problem was that she couldn't help but measure up everyone she met in Konoha with a measuring stick that looked awfully like Sasuke, and unsurprisingly, she found them all wanting. It wasn't until she came to Wind Country and met Keitarou, a civilian who had nothing in common with Konoha, who hadn't made her pull out that Sasuke measuring stick, that she realized she'd still been waiting for her first love. Even as she'd told herself that she wasn't, she knew that she was.

The loss of her virginity had been a surprisingly fun experience. Keitarou had been kind and gentle, and probably most importantly, knowledgeable, and he'd made it good for her. He'd made her feel true arousal and true pleasure, and she wasn't averse to experiencing either again. That wasn't to say that, now that she'd given herself up, that she was about to go around sleeping with every cute boy she met, but being unwillingly drugged seemed to be a wonderful exception to the rule. Maybe there was still time to turn the whole mission around and have it end on a high note with a stranger she would never see again.

"Since you took my kill from me, the least you could do is take me," she said more brazenly than she felt. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she knew that it wasn't just because of the drug. She held out a hand and the man, after a moment, placed his palm in hers. She licked her lips and braced herself for her next words, because she knew what it would likely mean for her as well. "But… I would like to see your face when you do." It was dangerous, for shinobi to view one another's faces while on a mission, especially when they were from other countries. For that was what he had to be - Konoha wouldn't have sent out a second shinobi for a mission that had already been handed to her.

His fingers tightened around her hand, but she felt no killing intent from him, and no alarm from her own instincts. She didn't feel anything from him at all, which was still strange, that odd there-but-not there feeling she'd never felt from another shinobi hiding themselves, but she did feel confident that he wouldn't kill her too.

"If I'm to release mine, you should release yours as well."

She should have expected that. She did expect that. It was only fair. But it was dangerous. For them both. Which she also knew. But if he could help relieve some of the tension that was rising within her again, it would be worth it. If he didn't kill her on sight. Or her, him. Though anything he were to learn about her, she would learn about him. It was a mutually beneficial threat of destruction.

Sakura nodded. "Deal."

Just the thought of releasing the man's hand made her tremble with the need to be touched, so she didn't let him go. She reached back with her free hand to work at the knot at her obi as she released her jutsu. The man didn't move, but his own jutsu faded away just as she loosened the knot, and she found herself staring at a familiar face. A face she hadn't seen for years and had never expected to see again.

Uchiha Itachi.

* * *

The woman on the bed was familiar to him in a way that reeked of the home he'd once had. Her hair colour was particularly distinctive, and he searched the memories of his earlier years at Konoha. After a moment, he remembered such a head of hair on an awestruck little girl that had frequently followed his little brother from a distance. She was the one in love with Sasuke. Still was, despite his little brother's betrayal of their village and his friends, if Itachi's eyes in Konoha were to be believed. Despite the disgusting reptile he'd attached himself to in his search for enough power to defeat Itachi himself.

The kunoichi was still staring at him, green eyes wide in her flushed face. She hadn't released his hand, even when he'd dismissed his henge. For a moment, he couldn't quite remember her name, but his memory was strong, and the colour of her hair was a decent tell.

"Sakura." And then, after a short pause, "Haruno."

"Uchiha Itachi," she replied, her voice a bit faint, and his hand in hers tightened reflexively. She snapped into action, snapping the pin from her hair and sending the pink strands into a wild mess around her shoulders. She held the hair ornament in her free hand like it was a kunai and she was about to cut his throat. If she could.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked, strength back in her voice even as the fingers around his hand slowly increased their pressure as if she was seeking to crush his bones to dust.

"You are not in my way. I have no interest in seeking your death," he told her, and it was true. He didn't share the joy in sheer destruction or fighting for the sake of it like many missing nin; Itachi only cared to eliminate obstacles between himself and his goal, and even though it appeared that they had shared a target, she couldn't have been farther from an obstacle if she tried. However, there was a great possibility she may not have the same disinterest in his life - as both a loyal subject of Konoha and someone who cared very deeply for his little brother, it was possible she would either try to kill him for Sasuke, or capture him to return him to Konoha per her ongoing duty regarding missing nin. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked, curious.

She stared at him for a long moment, during which her posture didn't flinch and her hold on her weapon seemed coiled like a snake waiting to strike. "No," she finally said, body language loosening again, though she didn't put down her hair pin. "Sasuke would kill me too if I took that from him."

Itachi nodded, a bit surprised that she was able to recognize something so dark about the boy she clearly still had a crush on and couldn't break her hero-worship from. From both Itachi's spies and own encounters, it seemed as if Sasuke had accidentally surrounded himself with people whom had formed a profound loyalty for him. As much as Itachi loved his little brother, he knew that right now, Sasuke didn't deserve such friends, but perhaps they could get to a place where he did deserve them. For a brief moment, Itachi wondered what that would be like, to have someone who held such loyalty to him. Then, he brushed the thought away; everyone who might have been so loyal, he had already killed.

Touching the woman though, if she let him, would almost be like touching Konoha again, would almost be like touching Sasuke again. It was a foolish thought, if for no other reason than neither his village nor his little brother would be within his reach ever again, but this woman was. She wouldn't be his first, but she would be the first in some time. He didn't often let himself indulge in any vice, but he could feel the effects of the aphrodisiac keenly in his own body, in the rushing of his blood and the pounding of his heart and the hardness at his pelvis. For a moment, he wondered if she might have formed a crush on him instead of his brother, if he hadn't ever left the village. If the whole of his clan hadn't been destroyed. But what-ifs had no place in his life, and especially not in this moment.

"We have both stated a lack of intent to kill one another, and we are both affected by this drug," he said, slowly easing his grip on her hand in such a way that it appeared she didn't notice. "Unless your offer has been retracted, my acceptance of it has not."

She stared at him for a long time, and he could see the way she was weighing the pros and cons. Her legs shifted in her kimono, and he could only wonder at the physical effects she was experiencing. He knew well the effects of an aphrodisiac, and it was not an easy burden to bear, for either gender, but he knew it was harder for a woman to relieve than a man. Sakura was likely no different, even if she was experienced, which it seemed she was if her offer was any indication. Itachi didn't know her, but he knew her type, and he was certain she wouldn't have offered her virginity to him if it was in tact, aphrodisiac or no.

"No, I don't detract my offer," she finally said with a determined expression and a decisive nod. She used their combined hands to tug him down to the futon, chin raised almost as if in challenge. And when she didn't stop trying to pull him closer, he realized it was a challenge of sorts, but more of a dare. A dare to kiss her. His lip curled as he ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers.

Her mouth was hot and wet and greedy, her tongue searching and frantic. She was inexperienced, a bit sloppy, and a lot desperate, kissing Itachi as if she could cool the fires within with kissing alone. As hard as he was, as much as he was battling with his own fire, he forced himself to remain slow. She may not be a virgin, but it was new to her nonetheless. He carefully eased her into a slower pace, gently calming her with the slow slide of his palms down her ribs, over her hips and down her thighs. Her frantic cover-up early had only gotten her kimono as far as her knees, and he slid his hands under the hem, retracing his path, his palms flat to her skin as he pushed her kimono slowly back up around her hips. Her legs fell open as the restraining fabric was pulled away, and he settled between her parted thighs. It brought his hardness into contact with where she was so wet that he could instantly feel it through the fabric of his trousers. He rolled his hips forward once, pressing his length fully against her, and she moaned into his mouth, her hands seeking to pull his own clothes away.

"Have you done this before?" he whispered against her lips as he worked his hands beneath her back. He was nearly certain she had at least once, but he wanted confirmation. She arched into him, her bound breasts pressing against his chest, and he closed his eyes against the sensation for a moment, even as he finished untying the obi she'd already started to dismantle.

"I couldn't wait for Sasuke forever," she whispered back as she pressed kisses to his jaw.

His brother's name made his fingers clench tight around her waist and she whimpered. His grip would leave bruises. "Don't speak his name again."

She licked her lips and nodded. "Okay." Her voice was soft, understanding, and he hated it for a moment. What he wouldn't give for everything that had happened to him and Sasuke to be undone, for them to be happy and safe in Konoha, this naive girl married to his brother, making him _happy_. But that would never happen, and right here, right now, she was his.

He pulled away with a lingering kiss and shifted halfway down the futon on his knees before wrapping his hands around her ankles and pulling her down out of her corner. He pulled her close to him, but not flush against, and it left her legs splayed around him, hooked around his waist, and it left her face flushed a dark pink that told him exactly how unused to this she was, how shy she was. He made no comment on it as he finally tugged the obi free from her body and then slowly split the lines of her kimono, pulling it open at such a snail's pace that he could nearly track the spread of her blush down her chest. When her breasts were finally revealed to his eyes, her hands hovered near them, a near-virgin's instinct to hide themselves from an unfamiliar gaze, but she managed to stop herself from completing the action.

Her breasts, while a bit small, were perfectly formed, full and soft-looking. That softness spread to the rest of her skin, not a scar to be found along the length of her sternum to her flat belly. The soft curls between her thighs were already damp, likely from a combination of her arousal and when she'd been pleasuring herself before she'd been interrupted. He couldn't help but take note that they were no longer blonde like they had been when he first entered the room, but rather a softer pink in accordance with her natural hair colour. She was more open to him than she had been to the man they had apparently both been here to kill, however, and when he cupped a breast in each hand, and pressed his teeth to one hardened nipple, she cried out and arched her chest into his mouth.

Her skin was slightly salty from sweat, and warmer than it should have been from a combination of the thick fabric of the kimono and the effects of the aphrodisiac, but he found he liked the taste of it on his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her fingers twisting in the sleeves she was still caught up in, and when he scraped the tip of his thumbnail over her other nipple, her fingers clenched so hard that her knuckles turned white. He smiled against her breast as he teased her nipples with teeth and tongue and fingernails, and soon she was rocking up into him, dragging her wetness across his covered groin, seeking to alleviate her need.

When he pulled away, she gasped and started as if she was trying to sit up, and both of her hands threaded through his hair, trying to keep him close. Her eyes were wide in her face, her soft mouth parted as she let out little pants. Maintaining eye contact, he bent his head to lick a line down her sternum, and when he started pulling away, his tongue still to her skin, this time she let him, eyes still wide. When he passed her bellybutton, she let out a soft " _Oh_ ," having finally caught on to where he was heading to, and released the hold on his hair. He pulled away just before reaching his goal and she made a wounded sort of sound as he hovered just above her, breathing hot air against her that made her shudder with every exhale. She began to squirm, her hips rocking as if she were beckoning him closer, and at last he did, setting his tongue to her folds.

"I-Itachi!" she choked, thrusting into his mouth as he licked into her.

She was even hotter and slicker in here than her mouth had been, but this time, he didn't have her fighting to devour him as he kissed her. However, when he pulled back just enough to flick the tip of his tongue against her nub, she bucked with a shocked intake of breath and enough strength to nearly dislodge him. He hadn't realized exactly how strong she was, until now, but if it ever came to a time when he would have to fight her, it would not be an easy defeat. He pushed a palm to her belly, and it actually took concentration and effort to keep her from breaking free of his hold as he licked at her again and again. With each swipe of his tongue, he could hear her whispering "Oh gods," like an echo.

It got harder to hold her down as he ate at her, harder to keep her still. She couldn't seem to stop squirming, though as it got worse, and as her fingers fluttered at his temples again, he realized she was getting close. When he sucked her into his mouth, and set the breadth of his tongue against her, her hips lifted and she arched off the futon in one long line, and then froze that way, her stomach clenching and her hips rolling against him. Then the line broke as her muscles relaxed, and she sunk back down with a long, low moan as her orgasm washed over her. He followed after her, sucking lightly as she continued to rock into his mouth, and didn't let up until she began to tremble in earnest and started pawing with useless hands at the back of his head.

When he finally sat back on his heels and wiped her release from his face, he found her staring blankly up at the ceiling, her body twitching with the remnants of pleasure. She made a such a lovely picture like that, laid out in her spread open kimono, her pink hair accentuating the flush to her pale skin, that it almost made Itachi regret the path his life had taken. Almost. But trying to change the past was useless - all he could do was take advantage of the present. He leaned over her on his hands and knees, and waited for her dazed eyes to gain focus and meet his.

"That…" she said, her voice faint and hoarse, "was amazing."

Itachi didn't reply but for a little curl to the corner of his lips, just kneeled there and waited. He knew that her orgasm would relieve some of the need from the aphrodisiac, but only temporarily. Soon, she would-

Her hand was rising towards him, and it paused when his eyes flicked to the side. After a moment, she continued its path and set her palm to his cheek. She tilted her chin up as she pulled him down, and the motion felt strangely slow, like moving through water. Her eyes started to close, but when he paused before setting his lips on hers, they slid back open, looking up at him curiously.

"I'll taste like you," he warned her, voice quiet even in the silent room. Though with how close they were already, he wouldn't have been surprised if she could taste it on the air between them.

"Okay," she whispered back, and then lifted her head to press their mouths together.

She kissed him slower this time, without prompting, her movements almost lazy. She wasn't so frantic right now, not just yet, though she would be soon. The hand on his cheek slid into his hair and cupped the back of his head as her tongue moved over his, and he wondered what she thought of tasting herself. She began to move under him, not just squirming like before, but with purpose, and then he found himself being rolled onto his back. He let it happen, curious about her plan as she followed the movement until she was straddling his hips.

When she sat up, her cheeks were flushed a deep pink again, and she didn't look at him as she slid her fingers under his shirt and began sliding her palms up his stomach and chest. Her hands were warm and calloused but soft and shy in their movements as they slowly pushed his shirt up his chest until he had to sit up just enough to let her pull it off him and toss it to the side. The movement sent his ponytail flying until it came to a rest against his chest, and the sensation of his hair against his bare skin was an oddly sensual feeling. Sakura reached forward and touched the strands, tracing the lines they created over his bare skin until he felt nearly desperate to have her touch him elsewhere.

He grabbed her hands, stilling her fingers, and her eyes snapped to his, wide and just a bit fearful. "Enough," he murmured, and to show he wasn't annoyed with her actions, he kissed the tips of her fingertips. Her smile was a small, relieved thing, but bright, and she ducked in to press her lips to his for a brief kiss before she shuffled backwards. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch as she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants, pulling them down slowly, her expression akin to the one a child would have when opening a present.

When his erection sprang free of their restraints, Sakura stopped, leaving Itachi's pants around his thighs, her mouth forming a small 'o'. She carefully wrapped the fingers of one hand around him, and the muscles in his stomach clenched at her touch. He was careful not to move, but he had been so hard for so long that just that one, little touch nearly made him come. Still, a little bead of precome gathered at his slit, and he could see the surprise in her face as she blinked curiously at it. And then she bent down and licked at it, her tongue soft and warm against him, and it took everything he had not to thrust up into her mouth. Her nose wrinkled in distaste and she sat back upright as she shook her head.

"Not to your liking?" he asked, amused.

"Maybe with time," she replied diplomatically. And even though he knew she was only his for the moment, her words made him think, just for a split second, that they may one day meet again. It was a foolish thought and he was a fool for thinking it. He had no delusions about why she was even allowing him to touch her in the first place, and the chances of the both of them landing in a similar situation a second time were astronomically small.

She shuffled back forward until she was kneeling over his length, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she seemed to take a moment to mentally prepare herself for what she was about to do. She reached down, grabbed him firmly with one hand, and then slow-slow- _slowly_ sunk her wet heat around his length. He couldn't help but wrap both hands around her waist as she settled around him; though he had had sex before, it was never a high priority and it had been awhile since he'd had a woman last. Luckily, Sakura seemed to need a moment too because she was just sitting there, eyes closed and mouth open as her body adjusted to his length.

She almost looked like a princess, a debauched one, but a princess nonetheless: her hair a loose halo around her shoulders, her kimono flaring out behind her like a cape and her arms still trapped in its sleeves, her expression rapturous, her breasts bare and nipples taught. She was beautiful.

He waited for long moments for her to move, for her eyes to open, during which he tried to calm the fire within him so he didn't finish too soon. He put his hands against her bare waist and admired the spread of his paler fingers against her slightly darker skin. She still didn't open her eyes when he slid his hands up her torso to her breasts, to massage her nipples with his calloused thumbs, but her back did arch just a little to push chest into his hands, and she let out a deep breath.

"Sakura…" he murmured, wanting those green eyes back on his face, wanting her to move.

"Yeah... " she breathed, her voice more air than words. "You feel… You're bigger than I-" She cut herself off and shifted over him with a shudder before falling still again.

He rolled his hips up and she fell forward, her hands bracing against his chest, fingers scraping against his skin. He pulled one hand from her and she whimpered, but when he reached between them to brush against where she was, undoubtedly, still sensitive. This time when she gasped, she clenched tight around him and her fingernails left trails of red against his skin. "It will get better, easier, when you move," he reminded her, continuing to move his thumb in small circles. Her walls pulsed around him in time, and he had to fight his own desires not to take control. "I'll help you, Sakura, if you need it."

She gave no response, so he wrapped both hands around her waist and lifted her off of him before pulling her back down. She gasped when their pelvises reconnected and her muscles around him rippled, and he inhaled sharply through his nose. He wondered if it had been because it had been so long or just Sakura that made it feel so good. He lifted her again and again and again, and after a moment of this, her hands on his chest pressed down harder as she began to lift her hips of her own accord. It took her a bit to get a rhythm down, but before he knew it, Sakura was riding him as if she'd done it a hundred times before, each thrust firm and her walls gripping at him every time she pulled away, as if her body was rejecting his loss.

The fire in Itachi's limbs from the aphrodisiac was slowly being replaced by the fires of true arousal. Sakura was beautiful and strong and soft and warm and _hot_ and it had been so long. She was quiet, however, and it seemed so unlike her that he resolved to change that. He slowly released her waist and slid one hand down to the apex of her thighs to press his thumb against her clitoris. She gasped as her rhythm stuttered, and Itachi reached up with his other hand to cup her cheek and pull her down into a kiss as he sat up to meet her. Her hands slid up to his shoulders and she clawed at him as he rubbed at where she was most sensitive at the same time he stole her breath. He kissed her until she was panting for breath and her hold on him had been weakened and her rhythm was more off than on.

Itachi sat up and tipped forward, cradling the back of Sakura's head as he laid her back on the futon. She stared up at him with glazed, confused eyes, and he ducked down for a quick kiss before he pulled out. She made a strange, offended sound more akin to a bird's squawk than a lady's indignation, but he only flipped her onto her front, pulled her up onto her hands and knees, and slid back into her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and placed his fingers over her clitoris and she cried as she rocked forward into the pressure. Itachi bent forward over her back until he could hook his chin over her shoulder and whisper in her ear.

"As much as I enjoy looking at you, watching you," he whispered as he began to rock into her with hard, even thrusts, "I want to make you fall to pieces even more. I want to fuck you until you forget to keep silent."

"Oh gods," she gasped, and he thrust harder at the mental image of the way her bright eyes tended to go wide when she was surprised. "Itachi-" she cut herself off as he began to pick up speed, and he could see the way her fingers were curling into the futon as her head fell forward as if bowed.

"Yes, Sakura?" he asked back, even as he began rubbing at her and thrusting into her in earnest, picking up speed until each thrust made the slap of their skin echo in the small room. She was wet against him and only getting more so the harder he took her. He had wondered if she would like it rough when he had teased her nipples with teeth and fingernail, but this only confirmed it. The harder he fucked Sakura, the wetter she got, and the louder she got until his hips were a blur and the sounds she was making were nearly loud enough to drown out the sounds of him thrusting into her.

She seemed to have no response for him except more choked off moans; he still didn't have her quite where he wanted her, even with his finger on her and himself inside her. Then she collapsed to her elbows to press her face into the futon and it felt like Itachi was sliding even deeper into her. He lost his silence in that moment, letting out a long, low moan, but Sakura _wailed_ into the bed and her spine started rolling as she tried to meet his hips with every thrust. As soon as she started trying to match him, Itachi became aware of his own arousal again, could feel the heat in his groin building to an intolerable point.

"You're going to make me come, Sakura," he told her as he leaned over her, nosing at her ear through the curtain of her hair. "I want to make you come first. Do you think you can do that for me?"

"I'm already close," she gasped, voice muffled. "I'm so close. Itachi, I-"

Itachi cut her off by sliding the first two fingers of his free hand into her mouth and pressed lightly down on her tongue. "Wet them," he instructed, and she began to suck at the digits before he'd even finished speaking. He didn't keep them in her mouth for long before he pulled his hand away and wrapped it around her waist to press his wet fingerpads to her clit instead, making her jump and jerk against him. The hand that had been occupied with pleasuring her he clasped over the back of her neck, his fingertips pressing against her fragile collarbone, using her shoulder as leverage to pull her down into his thrusts quicker and harder.

Sakura's walls started to flutter around him as he worked her closer and closer to her orgasm, and he strove to reach it at the same time. The pulsations built and built and built and her body grew more and more taut until she froze where she knelt and she began to spasm around him as her orgasm took her. It was only too easy to let her release take his too, to let that warmth building in his limbs wash over him and spill out into her. He had to close his eyes against the strength of the sensation, his fingers at the back of her neck pressing down hard enough to bruise. When it finally passed, he found his limbs weak in an unfamiliar, but not unwelcome way, as he held himself up on shaky arms to keep his body from crushing her trembling form.

He carefully eased the pressure off her clitoris, meaning to pull his hand away and pull out, but he couldn't help but trail his fingers inwards to feel where he was still inside her, his length still a little hard and wet from her release. She trembled as he played with her folds, fascinated by the sensation of her heat now that the arousal clouding his mind and the fire in his bones had faded. When she began to pull away from him, her legs sliding down off her knees, he followed, moving the hand at her neck to wrap around her waist to turn them both onto their sides on the futon. He pressed his hand to her sternum, holding her back tightly enough to his chest that he wouldn't have to leave her slick warmth in such a way that was leaving him half-hard despite his orgasm.

"If you want sex again, you're going to have wait till morning," Sakura surprised him by muttering, hand settling over his on her torso. "You're too good at this and apparently battle strength and stamina has no relevance to sex strength and stamina."

Itachi smiled and pressed a kiss into her hair, unable to disagree. He felt drained, exhausted, and all too ready to sleep. He had already locked the room when he came in, and his coat and weapons were close enough to reach should anyone invade the room while they slept.

"Then I'll wait until morning," he murmured back. A soft snore met his words and he almost chuckled in surprise. He folded his free arm under his head and shifted his hips as he pushed down on her, making sure he was as far into her as he could be; she was warm and soft and comfortable, not just where he was in, but the body in his arm overall. Itachi moved the arm around her waist just a bit further up to cup a soft, full breast, and fell asleep breathing in the scent of Sakura's hair.

* * *

The ache in Sakura's limbs hit her first: the feeling of a good workout and a poor sleeping surface. Then came warmth of a weak morning sun against her face and the warmth of a body wrapped around her, keeping her bound and still. Last came the feeling of something hard and hot inside of her, filling her as it rocked in and out of her in a slow, leisurely pace. She groaned and stretched her limbs where she lay on her side, luxuriating in the sensation of moving after hours of stillness, her movements stuttering when wet fingers pressed against her clitoris.

"Good morning, Sakura," a low voice said near her ear, making her shiver at the hot breath. The fingers against her were moving just as slow as the man in her, igniting a heat in her belly like a smoldering ember in the depths of a dying fire. She blinked her eyes open, lids moving rapidly as she attempted to adjust to the dawn lighting. There were already birds awake and twittering outside the cracked window of- where was she?

Sakura looked down her body at the pale hand with painted nails slowly working her into an orgasm and the memories came flickering back like an old film reel. The mission, the voyeur target, the stolen kill, the aphrodisiac, Uchiha Itachi. Uchiha Itachi who hadn't left her during the night, despite the potential for a situation change now that they were both clear-headed. Uchiha Itachi who had woken her with a gentle lovemaking, who had taken her as she'd needed the night before and made sure she'd found her pleasure first. Twice.

"Itachi," she croaked, and then flinched at the sound of her own voice.

She felt more than heard his chuckle in the vibration of his chest and the shift of the hair at the back of her head, and it made something in her chest glow. Itachi was a lot like his brother, slow to amuse and it was rare to make an Uchiha smile, much less laugh. But she had made Itachi chuckle more than once by now, and it made her oddly proud.

"Sleep well?" he asked just as he pressed his fingers firmly against her clit for a long moment, shooting tingles down her legs to her toes.

"I think I woke up better than I slept," she panted, beginning to rock between his slow thrusts and his circling fingers. She was sore, used, but in a pleasant way, and even with the aphrodisiac cleared from her mind, she was fuzzy from Itachi's attentions. Even Keitarou hadn't been so sweet on her and she was rather enjoying it, even as she knew that she shouldn't. She didn't think she could ever tell anyone about this encounter - it was one secret she'd have to take to her grave, but it was hardly the first and it wouldn't be the last. Such was the kunoichi life.

"I believe I would have to agree," Itachi replied. His mouth moved next to her ear, making heat melt down her spine as his breath tickled a sensitive spot. "I woke still inside you. You kept me warm and hard all night, Sakura. I wanted to repay the favour."

His hot, hard length and his calloused fingertips were working her to a slow peak, so unlike the frantic sprint they'd worked to the night before. Heat was moving like lava through her limbs, a hot, lazy sprawl, unforgiving and unrelenting. "Th-thank you," she gasped out, clasping her hand over his forearm to ground herself.

Perhaps he had been working at her for a while before she woke, but her orgasm was approaching more quickly than she had anticipated it might. Before she really knew she was there, she was sinking under waves of sensation with a soft exhalation of breath, and clamping down at the arm under her hand and the length in her as her orgasm sent sparks of heat all the way to her finger and toes and sent white spots across her vision. By the the time it faded, she found Itachi twitching inside her and still around her, the arm around her waist holding her tight.

It was long moments before he relaxed, and unlike the night before, this time he slowly pulled out of her. It felt odd to be so empty when she'd been full for so long, and then she felt something leaking out of her and she grimaced at the beyond gross sensation. Before she could gather the energy to sit up and find something to clean with, or even to just roll onto her back, she could feel dry cloth swiping across her skin, cleaning her of Itachi's releases. She closed her eyes and let him take care of her, enjoying the role reversal for once; Sakura had been taking care of so many people for so long that it was nice to relax and let someone take care of her instead.

"Thanks," she murmured.

Itachi hummed and kissed her hip before pulling away. Sakura nearly drifted back to sleep before the sounds of shifting cloth registered and she opened her eyes again and rolled onto her back. Itachi was dressing himself again, pulling his pants back up his thighs where apparently they'd never quite made it off of him last night. There was a dark stain against the fabric from her arousal and Sakura couldn't help but blush at the sight of it. Itachi just smirked at her as he pulled his shirt back on and then retied his hair. His _hair_. She barely got to touch that gorgeous head of hair. Well, if she was going to regret anything about this encounter, she supposed she could regret _that_.

She watched lazily, only half awake in her comfortable state of relaxed warmth, as he moved closer and crouched next to her. She tilted up her chin to watch him and he cupped her cheek, bending down for a soft kiss. Something small and circular was pressed into her palm and her fingers reflexively closed around it as Itachi slowly pulled away, lips lingering and leaving Sakura buzzing with delight.

"I've stayed too long, and you have as well. They'll discover his body before too long."

The quiet words had Sakura blinking in surprise. "What?"

"Take care, Haruno Sakura," Itachi said, and then he was gone.

Sakura blinked at the empty space Itachi had just been occupying, and then as her brain came back online, she stretched her senses outwards only to find that Itachi had disappeared completely, not even a hint of his there-but-not-thereness. She groaned and rolled onto her back, finally letting herself wake up. When she stretched her arms over her head, she remembered he had given her something and she opened her hand to find Honda Jin's jade ring. She stared at it for a long while before a smile broke over her face.

FIN

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 **Writer trademark: cameo from another fandom - Fuu from Samurai Champloo.**

 **That was fun. I hope y'all enjoyed. If you like the thing, reblog the a thing (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, tagged/What-Happens-on-a-Mission-Stays-on-the-Mission). :3**


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